


A Nightmare March

by Ajluv



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Bad Dreams, Depiction of several character deaths, M/M, after the war, cowardice, poor Liebgott, poor Webster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ajluv/pseuds/Ajluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liebgott wants to yell across the field at him to stop trying, that it's the only possible way to stay alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nightmare March

A nightmare march, a death walk, a charge into hell. 

It's unbelievable how quickly planes can swoop down from the clouds and release ammunition that can wipe out an entire platoon. It's astounding how swastika painted warships can glide almost silently next to beaches and let loose hell. It's downright frightening how quickly they can lose the upper hand in one swift stroke. 

And when the best of the best fail? That's when you know that you have no hope. 

His brothers in arms have no chance and Liebgott is witness to dozens of deaths. Malarkey, bounding with his gear to the tree line, one minute there, the next gone, a wailing Muck taken out barely half a minute later. Brave Lip, still shooting, still fighting, still yelling for the others to run and take cover, to save themselves, before disappearing into a fiery wave of metal and dirt, gone. The medics, Spina and Roe, pale in the face of so much carnage, gone. Spiers, trying to run through the enemy yet again, gone. Babe and Bill, taken out of this world the way they were brought in, kicking and shoving, gone. Toye and Luz, jokes and brass knuckles can't help against the devil, they're gone too. 

Liebgott doesn't know why he's still alive, standing there dumbfounded, shellshocked as men scream and die in droves around him. They are fighting and he is not, he is a coward and they are brave, but who is dying and who is staying?

Then there's Webster, no longer hesitating like Joe. He, unlike Liebgott, is fighting with tooth and nail to stay alive with a desperation suited for the crazy. The roles have switched. Liebgott wants to yell across the field at him to stop trying, that it's the only possible way to stay alive. That is, if sound were a plausible idea instead of distant dream amid roars of hellfire. 

But the shrapnel that pierces straight through Webster's lungs? Joe hears that, from across the battlefield, through the tanks and warships and planes. He hears the rattle of blood filling up where air is needed. The metal that goes straight through Webster's leg is even louder, making him collapse into a heap of mud and uniform and dark hair. The sound almost bursts Joe's eardrums, prompting him out of his daze and to move, move, move. It doesn't matter, he's still blown backwards by a cacophony of hellish roars, burning, tearing, destroying any semblance of rationale or sensibility, turning his brain numb as he bends over in agony and stares at the bloodstained ground in shock. The bullet that strikes right between those huge blue eyes is the loudest of them all.  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
...  
"Bad dream?" Webster asks in a half daze, startling Joe out of his reverie and into a world where instead of blood and gore, Webster is all warm skin and worn shirt and messy hair beside him, relaxed and fluid. 

Joe turns stiff, tense and suddenly very much awake, clutching the quilt between his knobby fingers, the pillow like a board underneath his head. 

"Fine." He answers absentmindedly, wincing at himself for taking the easy way out and Webster nods, already two thirds asleep again, snuffling and sighing quietly. Minutes click by, the night is slipping away like thieves in the dark, holding Liebgott in its grasp tightly. He won't be leaving for a while, like usual. Like every time he's had this nightmare. 

Then all is silent except for David's quiet breathing, and there are no weapons or tanks or Kraut aircraft. There is no blood or deafening roars or death. It's just a bed, somewhere in the empty space after the war, where the silence is just as damaging as the booming of mortar shells or Webster's last heartbeats. 

Liebgott doesn't relax. Doesn't think he ever will. Doesn't think he ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled this out of my ass to be honest. It's kind of a Band of Brothers tradition, pulling writing out of your ass.


End file.
